


Rilievo

by TerminallySingle



Category: Norse Mythology- Freeform, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Inspired by Music, M/M, Violins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 16:27:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerminallySingle/pseuds/TerminallySingle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor Odinson is a super rich dude- heir to a gigantic ass company with one basic passion in his life (I mean yes he has crushes and one night stands now and then, but his one true love for right now?) - his beloved Stradivarius violin, Mjiolnir, but when that is taken from him, Thor seeks help from someone from his past.<br/>thieves- takes one to know one right?</p><p>Loki, on the other hand, lives a hard-knock life but not like Annie. Hes basically the slumdog prince, you feel me? I don't think I used slumdog correctly but yeah. anyway, he needs to go find Thor's violin while trying to keep on the dl</p><p>still working out the kicks okay bear with me</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rilievo

**Author's Note:**

> so I haven't written anything in a very long time and I haven't posted anything in an even longer amount of time, and, if I were to be honest, I don't think I was ever even coming back.  
> and then the other day I get this email that said I got a kudos on something I posted like... back in the dawn of time ole shit and well... to that anonymous guest... thank you. you inspired me to get my ass back in gear and write again. I love you oh mysterious anon!

“If music be the food of love, play on.” - William Shakespeare.

 

This is the story of two princes. Two young boys who knew each other not from Adam, two complete strangers with nothing in common, two to- be captains of completely different industries, two princes who should never have met, two princes who should never have fallen in love.

 

 

There was a time, once, when fathers and blood dictated all that you were. Where lineage alone decided your rights, your freedom, your life- a time in which blood was it’s own inheritance. One would almost think that it is no longer so- that every man is captain of their own destiny and can commandeer themselves into a bright future- no matter how dark and decrepit their roots… they would be wrong. It all comes down to who your father is in the end, whose blood runs through your veins. If every man was the captain of the ship of their lives, then blood would be the seas on which they sailed, the currents of wind that cause their sails to billow and carry them onwards. If every man was the captain of the ship of their lives, then their father’s superiors would be their Commodores. Which is to say, a man is never truly free to write his own destiny as there is always someone who outranks him, someone who will dictate upon them, someone to whom they are at mercy.

Most people in the world find themselves at or near the bottom of the social ladder- completely outranked no matter where they turn by governments, by blood, by themselves, by other people- working hard to get by with what they have, just as their fathers did before them. Fewer are so lucky as to only be at the mercy of their government, as the issue of money and work hasn’t even a fleeting thought in their heads, they are free to spend as much money as want for. But only a rare few terribly privileged children can inherit a whole empire and worry not for anything.

 

Thor Odinson was one of these last children.

He had been born into a world of social elites and graces- of money and pompous wealth and everything it ensues. He had been born into the lap of luxury, wanted for nothing ever since birth, had been brought up by the finest tutors around, kept only good company with the other children of the elite, owned only the finest of all things- he had been given the world since the beginning, and the world expected practically nothing back.

He would grow up and inherit his father’s throne to Asgard- the family’s multi billion dollar company- and be not but a face to the company, he would keep only the best of friends, be an important member of the socially elite circles- he was going to be someone someday. And that someone would be nothing more than his father’s son... that was all. That was all that the world expected of the golden boy, was it then, truly so hard to accomplish? Surely it was not.

Why then, did the fair- haired son of Odin so oppose all that he was meant to do? Why then, did he never give a care for lessons of any kind, why then, did he refuse to do anything but cause fights amongst street children and mansion borns alike? All the boy ever did was make trouble in his constant pursuit of a good tussle. His constant want for the challenge of a physical brawl would only lead to his destruction, it would only lead to the shame of Asgard itself, and it could only end at the end of Odin himself. It had to stop, thought Odin, and it had to stop soon.

 

Loki Laufeyson was a child of a different breed, entirely.

He, too, was a prince. But his predestined rule was not over an honest, legitimate company with real, legal, clients. No. Loki Laufeyson was instead meant to rule as the Prince of Crime. Of thieves, murderers, rapists, drug lords, and the like- Loki was meant to rule them all.

“Be proud to be a Jotun, Loki. Have pride in the blue ink that floats beneath your skin and the red behind your eyes- for they are the colours of our people. This is your rule.”

Loki tried to listen to his father’s words, clinging to them as tightly as he could as one would hold on to the shore as the tide swept them over. But, just as like the shore, where one is supposed to find relief from unrelenting waves, Laufey’s words slipped through his fingers like sand and Loki could find no solace from the needle and the pain it caused. Seven years old and already getting his flesh inked the way all members of the Jotun Clan did. He shook and whimpered as the artist pumped more and more of the colouring into him. So much pain to endure, he thought, and for what? The ink used by his father’s people was thermochromatic- responding only to the cold and disappearing constantly due to a person’s natural body heat- he would probably never even see the tattoos- not where they lived. Not in sunny California. The strange means of identification would go unnoticed and unused for his entire life, probably.

Most gangs in the United States are mostly comprised of ugly, darkly tattooed men and women with numerous piercings and little to no education or sense of subtlety whatsoever, yet Laufey prided his followers of the Jotun Clan to be above them. They were stronger, faster, less reluctant to kill, ever loyal to their king, and infinitely more creative. Their methods were unorthodox and original, brutal and silent; not a single one of their kind had ever been caught, or even heard of by the average man or his authorities. They were the legends of nightmares- the Jotunar Clan, and little dark- haired Loki was going to be the King of Monsters, someday.

 

 

“Tutor...” whined the blonde- haired child again. “Why must I learn arithmetic? What use have I of maths when I could just simply hire someone to do calculations for me?” And again. “Tutor! What need have I of history? I wasn’t alive back then! It certainly has nothing to do with me!” and again, “Tutor, why ought my penmanship be neat? Is that not why I have a computer to write it all out for me?” and again, and then once more for good measure- until the tutor completely lost patience with the small child and bade him to leave him be as he turned in his letter of resignation to Odin, who accepted it begrudgingly- it was the fourth letter of resignation from a tutor he had received this month alone. Thor had always been a rambunctious child, yet these last few months he had been ridiculously so, all so that he could leave his lessons early and go outside to play with street children- as no one of the higher societal classes would ever spar with him. What could he possibly see in them? he thought, as his only child ran out into the street as fast as his little legs could carry him.

Thor’s young heart pounded in his chest like a drum beat and might have even cracked a few ribs from how hard and fast he was running, but no matter, the boy needed to get to his friends now, he needed to rough house and tussle with someone lest he rip out all of his unkempt hair in frustration.

So urgent was his need to leave the house, that he did not even bother to put on shoes, his feet protested against every step on the impossibly hard pavement and screamed in pain in every misstep onto glass and in cracks-, that, and paired with his stammering heartbeat and ragged dusty breaths, it was nothing short of a miracle that the boy’s resolve drove him on without stop- he was in so much pain, no matter, thought he, it might give the others a chance to beat me for once, he laughed to himself and picked up his pace even more.

By the time he got to the street corner where Volstagg, Hogun, and Fandral always waited for him before they went on adventures, the sun was already on a slow descent into the west. He panted to a stop in front of the boys and smiled, greeting them with a charming, “I’m sorry I’m late- you wouldn’t believe the traffic on my way here.”

“Oh I can imagine,” said a high pitched, female voice from behind his three playmates, as Fandral and Volstagg stepped to the side and revealed Sif- a young blonde- haired rich girl with the biggest crush on Thor since she turned five and their parents introduced him. Thor had always feigned obliviance, saying she was more of a sister than anything, but always knowing that she would fawn over him while his back faced her, whispering to herself like little Mary from It’s a Wonderful Life that she would follow him to the ends of the earth- yet it never would have occurred to him that she would literally follow him everywhere especially not so near the most dangerous part of the city.

“S-Sif?” Thor stuttered through shocked lips as his eyes grew to twice their normal size and his eyebrows danced all over his forehead- from way up that they disappeared behind his tangled mop of hair to so close together in confusion that they could have passed off as a single one had the crinkles of confounded fury not been there, “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here- don’t you know it’s dangerous in these parts?”

“Don’t you?” She returned, with her arms crossed in front of her chest and a completely unsurprised, sassing look on her face.

“It’s different for me- I’m a boy!”

“And?” She challenged.

“-And you’re a girl and you can get seriously hurt out here, come on,” He, completely forgetting the exhaustion from only moments ago, pushed closer and grabbed her by the elbow and tried leading her away back home.

“No!” She wrenched herself free from his grip and turned to him, “I want to go on an adventure with you guys!”

“No! You can’t come!”

“Why? ‘Because I’m a girl’?” she mocked, pointing her finger directly into his face as she made her next point. “Girls can do stuff too, you know, Thor! I can do anything you can do and you know it!”

Words and academics may not have been Thor’s strong suit, and at only twelve years of age, neither were girls and how to talk to them, but even with his little experience with his mother, he knew that continuing on the completely sexist argument that he was on was not going to win him any favours- much less this argument. So he lowered his voice a bit and tried to say as calmly as possible in this situation as he snaked an hand onto her shoulder- trying to ignore the slight blush that overtook her fair and freckled features, “Sif I know you can, but please! You can’t come!”

“And why not?” she asked, throwing his hand off her shoulder in disgust- all in all defiant once more. It seemed that the young Thor still had much to learn about talking to women, for the lustre and the edge that her feelings had for him had all melted away as promptly as they had shown, despite how sure he had been that if he got this close to her she would be forced to see things his way. 

“Because!- because… because” Thor looked to his companions for help in trying to find a reason that didn’t sound sexist or overprotective or anything like that- something that would calm Sif down enough for her to see reason and turn on her heel and leave. No help came though, instead of doing anything useful, Volstagg just ate some candy he seemed to have conjured out of nowhere and Fandral watched bemusedly at his fellow blondes as they dished it out at each other. Hogun hardly ever spoke, so there was really no point in looking to him for help. “Ugh! Fine!” He threw his hands up in the air like an exasperated, spoiled child, renouncing the debate, “Very well! If you want to come along and get hurt or lost or anything else, fine!” He stomped off away from her and bumped shoulders with Volstagg on his way past his entourage and grumbled, “It’s your funeral. Come on!” he waved for his companions to trail behind him, he had no idea where they were going, but he just needed to leave.

Sif looked like she had just won the lottery and even needed to shake herself out of her daze so she could catch up with the boys.

Maybe we can go somewhere where only boys are allowed, she’ll get bored soon enough and then leave… idled Thor, yet another voice in his head said in return, you know she never gets bored when she’s with you. Ugh! Stupid girls! “Thor! Thor, wait!” shouted a voice from far behind him- shaking him out of his ragingly rapid pace. He turned to see Fandral halfway down the block with one of his hand outstretched towards him and the other on Volstagg’s shoulder as he tried to steady the waddling, larger boy before he collapsed from exhaustion and hyperventilation- the practically- a- sprint having been too much for him. Hogun was much nearer than they were, but he wasn’t trying to help a giant of a boy keep from overexerting himself with mild exercise, rather, he was struggling to catch up to a smaller boy in order to get him to stop.

Sif couldn’t be seen from where he was… and where he was was in the middle of the street. Hogun was the first to see the car coming, followed not too long by everyone else, save for Thor. Thor stayed right where he was- never suspecting that the reason why his friends had all frozen in fear was because an older truck suddenly appeared out of nowhere and would have crushed their comrade- had it not been for a stranger.

Thor heard the car coming up behind him and realized too late that he should have dived out of the way, when someone much bigger than he tackled him from the side and saved his life- the huge monster of a vintage truck whizzing by without care that they almost ended the life of the prince of Asgard Corporations.

The next thing he knew, Thor was on the bruising sidewalk in a painful position and there was a man above him, panting, with his hands on either side of Thor’s face and his glasses sliding down his nose.

The man had brown eyes and hair and dark brown, nearly black, scruff on his face- the makings of a very handsome beard- adorning his jaw. He was in his early thirties- easily, and yet had the air of an ageless man- as though he had found a way to transcend time itself and avoid any of her physical manifestations.

“Thor! Thor, are you alright!?” chorused four young voices behind the stranger’s, unsurprisingly, brown jacket. His friends all ran up to the pair and would not stop asking if he was okay- no one paying any heed to Thor’s unfamiliar saviour.

The man got up on his knees, and tried to clap his palms together to try and be rid of some of the grime he had collected upon his landing- finding only, that they smart too much to complete any sort of action such as that. Yet he still got up off the floor, silently, and started picking up his papers that lay strewn about on the ground. Again, no one paid heed- save for Thor, who could not take his eyes off the man and swatted away his cooing friends to help collect the paper off the ground. The others, upon watching his example, scrambled to help, probably thanking the stranger repeatedly for saving their friend, but Thor heard none of it, he was too busy admiring the sheets of music. Thor had seen music notes before, of course, but these appealed to him like no others had before. Not the piano, not the clarinet, or the saxophone nor the guitar had caught his eye like these. Maybe it’s just the near- death experience, he jested to himself, but no. He knew it was something more. The notes to Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” in the violin seemed to waltz along the page and beckon him to their embrace like a sultry, sensual dance that he simply could not resist... //Pilot of the storm who leaves no trace, like thoughts inside a dream// Heed the path that led me to that place, yellow desert stream// My Shangri-La beneath the summer moon-//.

Thor continued to collect the leaves of paper in silence, only half- listening to the gratuitous babble of his peers until he had collected the whole of “Kashmir”, a good portion of Coldplay’s “Viva la Vida”, and bits and pieces of classical work such as “Beethoven’s 5th” and Korsakov’s “Flight of the Bumblebee.” He took the liberty of putting the pages in order for the good man, it being the least he could do for him- and something his peers obviously evaded doing, since they were already done and just waiting on Thor before making their leave,- before walking towards the bent- over figure in a brown jacket. At first, Thor thought that he was collecting more papers, yet this theory was soon disposed of as he noted the substantially large stack of music sheets, held down by a rock found nearby, close to the heel of his brown- shoed foot. The closer he got to the man, though, the easier it was for Thor to see the broken remains of a violin on the floor.

Thor had never seen a man so distraught over an instrument before; the man’s lip quivered and he looked as though he had lost one of his own children right there on the street. Thor could have sworn that he saw tears welling in the man’s eyes, yet he did not want to pry. Instead, he grabbed the entire stack of papers off the floor, arranged them accordingly, and politely waited for the man to stand up so he could give him what he was due. He had only stood there , albeit somewhat awkwardly, for a few moments, before his friends began to pester him from along the sidelines- urging him to hurry up and join them instead. Yet Thor stayed put, and decided to do the polite thing and wait.

Eventually, the man did get off the floor though, with the fragments of what must have been a ravishing instrument cradled in his arms like a stillborn child. He looked wistfully upon the splintered wood for another moment or two before looking up and seeing Thor there, arms outstretched, waiting for him to take his music.

“Thank you,” said he, with a voice that gave proper tribute to every word said, despite there only being two, with proper enunciation and respect- the markings of a man who deeply loved the English language… and yet, the only one thing wrong with it was that he was the first to give thanks and not Thor.

“No, sir. Thank you. You saved my life- how could I ever repay you?”

“No ‘thanks’ necessary, son.” Replied the man as he tried to step around the barefooted boy who stepped right back in his way and lifted a hand in an attempt to prevent the man from walking away again.

“Oh but it is, sir! Please! Let me show my thanks- allow my father to buy you a new violin!” Thor looked up with a beaming, yet absolutely filthy, face at the music- loving gentleman.

He looked down at the boy with mild amusement through his rectangular frames before saying, “With all due respect, son, I don’t even think that would be possible.”

“And why not?” asked Thor, “We can definitely afford it- anything for my father’s son’s hero-”

“I’m sure you can, but I simply cannot receive any gift of admiration, my dear boy; as I did nothing that was neither noble nor noteworthy, no. Keep your money, my son, and go along on your merry little way- I’m sure your friends require your attention much more urgently than I do. Just, pray, you do me a kindness, though, and refuse to stand in the way of a vehicle again- lest my work be undone and for naught.” And, with that, the stranger merely patted his dust- covered head and walked past the group of children, papers and shards in tow, until he disappeared behind a corner.

“Thor, are you okay?” Fandral asked once more, and Thor, continued to refuse to answer.

“Thor?” asked Sif, sheepishly from behind Hogun.

“Yes?” he asked, eyes glued tightly onto the place where the man in brown had disappeared. He had never heard anyone speak like that, had never heard of anyone refute the chance at a prize for something so obviously completely noteworthy, and, indeed, noble; needless to say, the youth was completely intrigued by this stranger.

“You haven’t answered anyone… are you alright?” she asked, face lined with innocent worry.

“I’m fine- don’t worry about me, but I, uh, I need to go.” And Thor bolted down the street and turned the corner where the man had before him before Fandral could even finish his question of where he was going. He just needed to know more.

The man carried his trove in hand as he made his way to wherever he was going and never, not once, slowed down and Thor, unrelentingly and perhaps a little over- eagerly, unquestioningly followed this man down countless unknown streets until he wasn’t even sure if he was still in the same state- let alone city. Everything was so new to him.

The area to which he was led was an odd one, to say the least. It combined both the realms of humanity and nature, of crime and class, and of new and aged. The buildings were all graffitied and falling apart, yet struggled to feign, if not attempt to maintain, the stylistic appeal that they once had. There were Victorian- like homes with poorly- constructed additions of a completely different style and time period, the newest cars in sight were from the 60’s and all rusting, broken down things whilst the sidewalks were littered with 2014 motorcycles. The two bits of society that encompassed this place were at an ends- battling with each other for dominance, and yet, perfectly happy and serene with their ridiculous symmetry- even going on to joining together in order to become the “yin” to the “yang” of ta third party in their midst- a park in the middle of the square, run almost entirely by trees with trunks so thick and weeds so tangled that one might have thought it was a jungle had it not been for the odd christmas light peeking out from under a leaf and the view of concrete behind the green.

It would seem, that this place was the home of symmetry itself. The sun and moon could come to meet together and rest there, contentedly, as equals on the days that clouds over rule the sky, black and white would simply cease to exist and melt together to form a perfect grey- everything would find contentedness in this place; everyone could find their equal… including Thor.

So taken aback was he by the sight of the place that he completely lost track of the man in brown and lost him in a community he had never once been in and could no more navigate through it than a blind man could. He cursed himself inwardly, using the lewd phrases in the confines of his own mind freely as he could not use them at home and started his search for either the man or a telephone so he could call up a driver, when he heard something.

At first, it was so faint that Thor would never have heard it if he made so much as breathed, but once Thor started training his ears in search of it, the sound, although, still too far away to make heads or tails of it clearly, became clearly intoxicating and Thor needed to know from where it came.

He tried walking up and down along the sidewalk first- trying to eliminate the possibility entirely of it coming from an edifice behind him before giving up and stepping carefully towards the edge of the garden.

The voice was clearer now, high- pitched and perfectly tuned it beckoned him forth, not unlike the melody of a siren, and not unlike the music notes from before- music will be the death of me, it seems, he thought to himself, mildly amused as he started inching around the thick trunks and stepping over bristling weed thickets. Sirens, he reasoned to himself, hunt on the sea and on the sea alone- making fools of only sailors. And Thor Odinson is neither sailor, nor a fool. Later on, he would come to realize his mistake in thinking that nymphs only come from the water.

Slowly, Thor started to hear actual words form in the air in the stead of a simple tune and tone, and the sung phrase “when I’m gone,” became a motivational mantra that called him ever closer to the singer. Please don’t go, though, became his own personal answer every time the line was repeated.

“A hero lives forever// For the ones that carry on// What will they say// What will they say// About you, when I’m gone?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an overly descriptive and overkill of an attempt at a poetic piece of complicated description of their first encounter  
> ie- i tried too hard but i wanted to impress you with a first encounter chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (well okay half but only because i have a game in the morning and its 2 am and i need to go to sleep like yesterday, but i PROMISE to finish it soon)
> 
>  
> 
> WOWZA... i NEVER would have thought so many people would have read my shitty little story all in so little time!! 100+ hits in what? a day? WOAH. AND AMAZINGLY BEAUTIFUL COMMENTS TOO? WOW. and 4 subscriptions, i believe? I- IM- IM IN SHOCK...holey mother of swiss cheeses this is the most successful of my works- and im so grateful that people took the time to read it and... apparently.. wouldnt mind hearing some more of the story i thought up as a joke. just.. wow.  
> anyway, because this fic got so many reads and you guys seemed to like it, i decided to haul ass and to try my best to write you a quick thing. the style is a little odd, and im sorry for that, i just thought to do something special for you guys, but i couldnt think of anything good.. and im sure writing in a slightly shakespeare- inspired style is completely linear somewhere in my mind but im so tired i cant make heads or tails of anything.  
> its completely unbeta'd and comes from the best and truest part of my overly grateful heart to you all. much love and bless

Thor stopped moving. He stopped breathing. Stopped searching right there where he stood and didn’t say a word. The voice had gone silent. For a moment, he feared that it was all a fantastic dream- that he imagined a voice as crisp and clear as a bell which could bend and intertwine and weave notes and words of song into a tapestry of the air, creating something out of nothing, so that while you listened, you saw little but strands of string that curled and swooped and dipped by unto each other, seemingly at random, until, finally, when the singer retired their voice, one could truly appreciate their labour and take in a breath they hadn’t realized they had been holding- subconsciously believing that any sound, however slight, that left their lips would soil the purity that rang through with every note escaped from the other person’s lips- and take in, at full, the beauty of the completed tapestry, wondering how such odd little flicks of the tone, subtle as they may have been at the time, could have had such an impact and create something so beautiful and questioning, also, as to whether the colours had truly been there the whole time, or, if they had just been painted on at the last by the hands and brush of memory, they’re not having paid heed at the moment of sacred song taking toll.

 

He stopped and he listened. To everything, for anything, he listened- ear straining against the limits and constraints of human ability itself, just so he could prove to himself that the voice was real- that the tapestry woven by a singer left unknown was as tangible as the musician themselves, that there had been a person- an angel, a demon, a siren, or a nymph- it mattered little- there just seconds ago breathing life into still air… and he was disappointed. Listening ears- as eager as they had been- were left without an answer to their prayers, and no honey came to a beggar’s wanton lips- for no man had the right to demand of heaven something so sweet when he was so undeserving, when water, alone, would have been enough- what good would something so sweet and sticky bring to men who have not tasted but dirt and dry air in the longest time? None. Honey to a man left to dehydrate in the roughened desert sun was as want of value and as bitter as poison as it would have been savory and treasured to a man who gained all nutrients from flavourless sources.

 

He heard not a sound and saw naught but the green growth of foliage... yet he felt. He could feel the air bending around two subjects to whom it was a stranger- the shift of course causing it to charge with electricity of gazes cast his way as of yet left uncaught and as wild and as free as the plants that he trampled over on his path that delivered him there; he could feel the strain of lung tissue not belonging to his body being filled with the same oxygen he was breathing now; he could feel the heat of friction in this tingling, chafing, moment of silence between himself and the stranger, as they surmised each other from a distance- yet as to how far that distance was, he could not tell, not until the other allowed some indication of position, whether physically, which would give the blonde a location to focus in on in his search, or mentally, which would simply allow him to keep searching- assuming that, they whom he searched for would not run nor object to being found.

 

He stood in wait for a time, unable to tell if it had been moments or seconds, minutes, hours or days because of how slowly they crept along, the anticipation within him congealing and curdling and condensing until it formed a leaden, dead, immovable weight deeply set within his core and gilded upon his living bones and individual muscle fibres until they united and formed a single unified entity- a mesh between biological infrastructure and geological reinforcement- a testament, an erected atonement to the pressures of the situation- forged in discontent and disbelief and distrust and fortified by silence- until it caused him to be so heavy that even time itself found trouble in trying to move him forward unto his next appointment. He stood in wait, yet in his mind he neither delayed nor veered off from the task at hand- the search. He stood in wait and heightened his senses on demand and by choice so that he was not unlike a lion or some other form of ferocious hunter- the spirit is all the same- stalking his prey and trying desperately, to the best of his abilities and beyond, to find the singer who was so anxious to evade and avoid their all- too- eager audience member. Yet the lion cub in hunt heard no twig snap and break beneath the weight and pressures of the shoe pinned on its spine made of slender dead wood; he did not feel the strain of when someone might step on the stem of a plant from beneath his feet and cause it to creak as it bends backwards- conforming to the needs of your feet above… but he could hear.

 

And, if one were to completely honest with themselves, had honey truly been as disdainful and poisonous to a parched man left to die an unwelcome death by overexposure to the sun and its malevolence, as welcome as the same substance would have been to a properly cared for child with water in their bellies and lubricating their throats, then Thor would, undoubtedly, play the fool and beg for honey for the rest of his water- wanting days simply because he had not imagined the voice. It was real and it was concrete and it answered him.

 

And it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

 

Youthfulness did it preach in the sound of its undeveloped tenor of normed conversation, yet insightfulness- not to be confused with neither cleverness nor wisdom, as they are all three very distinguishable from one another, yet oftentimes made out to be synonyms, despite it to be false- for insight is defined as the ability to understand beyond significant differences and distances, cleverness as the ability to comprehend situations and provide a solution, and, finally, wisdom, being the crowning glory to the three as aforementioned, being the ability to comprehend with a foresight unparalleled by its predecessors, having the cleverness to find a solution that would satisfy the purpose and impose no irreparable damage, and the compassion to share with others their findings- none of the three, though, are ever bred into a person- as one cannot inherit these qualities of the soul any more than one can inherit shoes and wear them the same way, but rather, one is made to found, build, reinforce, guild, and finalize these moralities within themselves that they earn through experience of hardship of the soul- and this boy’s voice did so radiate insightfulness… insightfulness and suspicion and fear and pain, though, those four do, so often, coincide, for when one is hurt by other people, they feel pain and then they feel fear and then they harbour it within their hearts, latching onto the vine that sucks from them their trust and confidence until there is not much else left but an arousing suspicion, borne of fear, that would cause them to take precautions of a ridiculous extent against their fellow men, due to their uncanny perception of the human spirit, - insightfulness, and this was what the boy presented with his tentative tone of voice and subtly creeping warnings in his undertone, when he asked of Thor with furrowed brows that hid a menacing gaze, “Do I know you?”

 

Thor shook his head in answer as he hastily turned to see his enquirer as he emerged from the shadows of a tree whose branches extended far and thick like arms of a lover reaching out to embrace its beloved as they parted and whose bark had been scratched away by toes of boots and hands searching for a hold so that their master may perch nearer the sky on the branches whose reach covered all distance from where the stranger was at onto even where Thor was standing- some yards away. The boy finally stepped out into a small clearing through which more sunlight shone through and Thor was finally allowed to gaze upon his bewitcher.

 

He was a not unpleasantly pale boy with skin much like that of younger children than he- wherein it was, for the most part, unblemished by neither harsh sun nor injury, that clung to certain areas with the smoothed over look of youthful skin pulled taut and yet hung more roundedly in the cheeks- having not acquired a proper form until complete maturation, though, the boy did have a certain starved quality to him despite the pouches of youth that might have suggested otherwise had it not been for the rest of his features,- all in all, an average skinned boy- save for the fact that Thor could have sworn that there was an unnaturally blue- gray pallor added onto the cream, which dulled in comparison to the more electrifying blue streaks that caught the sun’s light and reflected back a sparking black from a deadly black that stained his nape- length hair. He had a high forehead with gave him the air of superiority, which was then reinforced by an angular nose, sharp cheekbones, and naturally small yet pouty, and arguable pursed- looking, lips the colour of the odd- late- winter rosebuds that litter Southern Californian gardens who refuse to conform to the laws of nature’s seasons. “Did the music bring you here?” He asked, with his eyebrows incrementally moving closer together and furrowing his brow as he looked down at Thor- despite their being roughly the same size and Thor having much more money than the other boy.

 

“Yes,” he said as he nodded- blonde hair sliding down from where it had been previously curved behind his ear until swinging in front of his right eye and redirecting his attention to his appearance- barefooted and wild- haired- whilst the other boy looked almost meticulous in his caring for his appearance with his hair combed and gelled back, Thor, finally feeling ashamed of the way he looked, fixed his hair back into place and, albeit blushing slightly, gave his best grin to the strange boy who looked at him with judging eyes and chin pointed up until he replied with a simple, single phrase.

 

“Leave.”


	3. Chapter 3

The green- eyed boy turned on his heels abruptly, causing his unnaturally dark hair to sway dramatically before landing on the nape of his neck as he started walking away.

Thor was taken aback at the bluntness of it all and even needed a moment to collect himself- the shock of such an encounter only just barely registering on his young mind, let alone making sense. “Hey- hey wait!” he cried as his own feet were set into motion in hot pursuit of the other boy. Within two strides he caught up to him and grabbed the other child by the arm right above the elbow with one hand- it was a gentle enough touch, not meant to be brutal in any way, just catch his attention, but the boy still cried out in pain.  


Thor let go of the appendage immediately with his eyes wide in fear- hoping to God that he didn’t hurt the boy with the beautiful voice so much that they couldn’t be friends. Said boy, though, was not very encouraging in that notion, as he clutched his arm with the other on the floor of the grove- where he had collapsed in pain, still breathing irregularly.  


“Did- did I hurt you?” asked Thor as he took a tentative step towards the wounded child, wanting to help him.  


The boy looked up from his place on the floor with a condescending tone in his voice and tears streaming down his face, “No. I just decided now would be a good time for a crying session- of course you hurt me!” He looked up into Thor’s face- probably trying to look ferocious in his scalding gaze, but only managing to look more pathetic than deadly.  


Thor took another step towards him and leaned down, reaching to touch the boy and help him up, “Here let me help you-” he offered.  


“No!” shouted the boy. “Don’t! Don’t you come near me!” he cried desperately, albeit painfully, as he tried to back up away from Thor’s abrasive hands into a nearby thicket. “I’m in enough pain as it is, I don’t need some galoot playing nurse to further aggravate my already delicate condition!”  


“Okay, okay” Thor said as he raised his hands as a sign of cooperation and no malignant intent. He backed up half a step and straightened himself up, shoving his hands into his pockets and allowing a moment or two of hiccup interrupted silence to pass, before chuckling to himself. “You use big words when you’re angry,” he said with a grin, as he dragged his hand through his tangled hair.  


Again, the snarky and pale child opened his mouth to insult the blonde boy, “Yes, it is one of the many advantages to having an IQ- something you would be extremely unaccustomed to,” he replied with a snarl.  


“I’m not stupid-” Thor interrupted on time as the other male muttered to himself in a barely audible voice, “-Could have fooled me-”. Thor ignored that though, and continued with, “-I know what you mean, I just meant-.” He sighed and he raked a hand over his face- words seriously failing him in the company of the other kid. ‘I just wanted to say ‘’I’m sorry,’ Okay?” The other boy gave a small nod in accepting the apology. “So. How- how did you get so hurt?” asked Thor, who was finally sitting down next to them.  


The other boy looked very reluctant at first to answer the question- so either he was coming up with an excuse or he was ashamed of what he had done. In the end, the boy said, rather simply. “I got into a fight.”  


“No you didn’t,” interjected Thor.  


“Yes I did,” he retorted, getting defensive about his non- existent friends and legacy for roughhousing.  


“No. You didn’t.” Thor defended, sounding more and more annoyed with each syllable, as though he was the big brother trying to give the other some advice. “I’ve been in fights, mate, I know how people get hurt and what happens when they do- and that is not how you get hurt in a fight.” The young blond said- his many months of training with the “Warriors Three” having come to some aid in the end.  


The boy on the floor chewed on his lip some, still very reluctant to share the details of his injury. “Do you promise not to tell anyone?” he asked, bashfully.  


“Promise.” Swore the blond boy, as he crossed his fingers and drew an “X” over his heart.  


The boy nodded extremely slowly as he tried to collect his thoughts. “Alright. Well… see, I recently underwent a procedure where-”  


“Can’t you speak in regular English, mate? There aren’t any adults here- no need to speak so fancy”  


The green eyed boy was, honestly, a tiny bit offended at the fact that his peer decided that the only way a child might use longer words is if there’s an adult present, but he complied anyway, 

“Alright, alright.” he answered, “Err…see.. I.. I’m recovering from something really painful-”  


“Yes I understood that,” Thor put brusquely, attempting to mimic the same attitude his newfound friend used against him when he was trying to say things of some importance.  


“Hold on, let me finish-” the boy raised his hand to stop his comrade from continuing to interrupt, and then continued.  


“Well?” pried Thor.  


The child kept tripping on saying things, the words failing to form in his mouth and recount what had happened to him not too long ago under the orders of his parent.“I think it’d be best if I just showed you”  


“Showed me?” He questioned.  


“Yes, there’s a creek somewhere nearby- the water is freezing cold, which makes it idea- I mean, ‘perfect’- for what I’m about to show you.” The boy carried on.  


“Oh- okay.” Thor brightened with a smile that could outshine the sun.  


“Come on, I’ll take you.” The boy crawled onto his knees and then his feet without once using his hands to do anything but cradle the other. And with that, he started marching towards the direction, with an eager Thor at his heels.  


Maybe this friendship could still be salvaged, he thought.  


“What’s your name anyway?” he asked. 

“Loki.” Loki, he thought, making an effort to remember this beautiful name which sat so comfortably on his tongue. Loki. Loki and Thor, off to conquer the world! He smiled. 

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Loki called for his attention with a small wave of his hand, “Aren’t you going to tell me yours?” 

“Oh.. sorry, mate. I’m Thor.” He said as he extended his arm to shake hands with the boy, who looked at it with some concern. Thor was confused for but a moment before crying, “Oh! Sorry!” and attempting to put it back in it’s place at his sides, when Loki decided to grab it last minute, despite the obvious pain, and shook it vigorously. 

“Well, Thor, I think you and I are going to be friends.” Loki giggled and, for the first time, Thor saw him smile. Thor made an effort to remember that as well- how his tongue peeked out slightly over his bottom teeth when he laughed, how his green eyes twinkled and the skin around them crinkled, everything- and he made sure to remember to keep making this boy smile- he was truly a sight to behold when he did that.

Sif, however, was not at all partial to the dark- haired male and instead, she cringed at the sound of his hideous laughter. 

She was hidden in a nearby thicket- completely concealed by the tangled weeds and dying bushes, having followed Thor when he ran away from his friends to follow the man who saved his life, ‘and thank the heavens, I did,’ thought she, as she watched with horror at how Thor so quickly agreed to go with the strange boy to some river ‘not hours after the hypocrite preached about how dangerous it was out here… the idiot.’ The girl crouched low in the brush and on her hands and knees crawled closer to the clearing- trying her hardest to hear more of the conversation, but failed to catch any more of their talk while the boys walked away- practically skipping in the overwhelming joy at having a new friend. Thor, especially, was glowing in his naevity, and as he chuckled heartily at some unheard joke, Sif realized her friend’s predicament and resolved to save his foolhardy self from the imp- like creature he encountered in a dark clearing and take him home. 

‘But how?’ she wondered; as evident from earlier, Thor wasn’t one to take her opinions seriously into account… ‘I’ll need the Warriors Three- they can convince him to come home!’ The small blonde nodded to herself silently as she rose to her feet. Firstly, though, she would need to know where to take the boys once she got them away from the candy store Volstagg had undoubtedly uncovered and convinced them all to go into by now, so Sif, tying her hair up in a ponytail, as an expression of resolve, followed Thor and his companion to the river. 

The path they were on was a comparatively smooth one, with many twists and bends, but hardly any treacherous rocks and roots to trip on- it was just a thin trail of dirt. 

Sif, on the other hand, was not following the walkway and instead travelled alongside it, getting scratched ceaselessly by stray branches from dead plants and nearly falling continuously from all of the holes and jutting rocks littering her way. She constantly had to maneuver around tree trunks woven so close together that nary even a breath could slip between the two trees, oftentimes getting lost in the process, but refusing to cry out for help- as no one knew she was there, and Thor would only get mad if he learned prematurely. So she carried on like this until the sound of running water reached her ear with such a volume, that she knew she had arrived at her destination. 

And with that, Sif peeked out from under her cover and attempted to step into the road, but her shoe got caught on a branch and she let out a small yelp involuntarily as she tripped on her foot, snapping the dried twig loudly as she went. 

She froze. For all her efforts, the girl was not very discreet, and she prayed to all the forces and all the powers that neither Thor nor the other boy heard her little blunder. If they caught her, she thought to herself, then they would overpower her in the argument that was bound to ensue and then Thor would never want to come back home with her! Instead, he’d choose to stay with this stranger he never met until today and then who knows what would happen! The boy was surely trouble if Sif had ever seen it, and Thor’s continued company with him would only bring about tragedy. Jealousy aside, Sif was going to protect Thor- even if it was from himself, and even if it meant that he would hate her for it, Sif was going to protect him. Sif didn’t just like the blond boy, she loved him… and this is what you do for the people you love… you keep them safe no matter what, because you don’t want them to get hurt… ‘especially not by stupid little black- haired boys with screechy voices who sneak around in the dark,’ Sif added with a small twinge of bitterness. In all their years playing together, Thor had never paid that much attention to her! But one ugly song sung in the woods and there he was, practically fawning over the kid! 

She rolled her eyes in annoyance from her spot on the ground- now being completely convinced that no one had seen her, as neither child had come back down to investigate yet- ‘He’ll learn!’ she thought to herself as she got up from the floor and started patting away the dirt and grime from her clothes as quietly as she could. ‘They’ll both learn,’ she huffed in the quiet recesses of her mind as she turned on her heel and started making her way back to where they came from. 

“This is not a ‘creek’, Loki.” Thor said as his eyes grew to the size of plates and his feet froze to the spot in fear. The ‘creek’ Loki had spoke about earlier was supposed to be small and gentle, even if it was freezing cold, but the body of water the green- eyed boy brought him to was definitely not a ‘creek’. It was wider and deeper than any creek Thor had ever seen and the water swirled nearly violently against the rocks that littered the edge of the water. 

“It is so a creek, Thor,” Loki said condescendingly. 

Thor turned to Loki with an exasperated expression on his face and asked “How is this a creek, Loki? Creeks are supposed to be small and shallow and-” 

“Well then this is a creek, Thor! Don’t be such a baby.” Loki crossed his arms and tilted his head sardonically at the blond. 

“Oh shut up Loki,” he laughed with a crooked grin and a playful little push at the slighter boy. 

“Oi!” the other exclaimed through another fit of laughter that shook his entire frame as he nursed his arm. 

Thor continued to chuckle for a moment or two, before he realized that Loki was clutching his arm again. His eyes widened in realization and guilt, “Oh- oh! Oh I am so sorry, Loki! I didn’t mean to hurt you again! Here, let me help.” Thor stepped forward and gently tried to place his arms around Loki’s. 

“No, no- don’t worry about it Thor, I’m okay,” said Loki, though he did not move his arm from the reach of Thor’s own hands. Thor gently placed his hands on the cool flesh and carefully pulled up the shirt sleeve to view the injured area of the arm. Loki watched as Thor’s eyebrows knitted together when he observed how, when he applied pressure onto the pale flesh with his own fingertips, the skin turned white- as was the norm-, but, once the pressure was lifted, the skin flooded with a slightly blue hue before returning to a fleshier shade. He stumbled for a bit and Loki found it charming how his mouth opened and closed as he searched for words but found none. So Thor just shrugged his shoulders slightly and he shook his head as he attempted to ignore the abnormal colouration of his new friend and continue in his amateur diagnosis. Loki blinked incredulously for a moment. He was not used to being accepted so easily by new people. In fact, he more than expected Thor to start asking invading questions and make fun of him and perhaps even more- but he didn’t! Loki smiled slightly before pulling the sleeve back into place, “Like I said, Thor,- don’t worry about it; I’m fine.” 

Thor was reluctant in letting go of the appendage for a moment, and even when he finally did, his eyes continued to be large with concern and his hands, too, continued to be raised as if their job had not been completed and Loki had torn away their work suddenly, instead of the slow process that it had truly been, “Are you sure Loki? I really didn’t mean to hurt you a second time-” 

“I’m sure- there’s really no need to worry so much about me,” Loki interrupted with a small shake of his head as he adjusted his sleeve more than necessary. 

“But you are my friend! Of course it is necessary to worry about you-” 

“And I thank you for that, Thor, but I am not exactly a porcelain doll that you need to care for so obsessively,” Loki interrupted a second time, so as to avoid that Thor begin a largely obsessive and protective rant about their newly found friendship. 

Said new friend raised his hands in defense before uttering an apologetic, “Okay, okay- I just wanted to be sure that you were okay.” His hands fell down to his sides soon enough and for a moment the two boys just stood there smiling at each other with only the gurgling of the river resounding in the background. It wasn’t awkward, really, but Thor didn’t want someone seeing them there just smiling at each other. So he rubbed the back of his neck, just so he could have something to do with his hands before asking, “So, why did bring us here, anyway?” Loki rubbed the back of his hand now in a nervous state, “I- I wanted to show you something- the reason why I get hurt so easily when you touch me.” Loki looked down at his palm- acting as though it was the most enthralling thing on the planet as he waited for Thor to reply. 

“O-kay?” He didn’t even have to lift his gaze to know that the slightly larger male had an expression of total confusion etched onto his youthful face. 

Loki turned away suddenly and started taking off his shoes and then his shirt, “Uh… Loki? What are you doing?” a rapidly colouring Thor asked behind Loki- who failed to see the blush spreading across his face from his back. 

“I am taking off my clothes, I thought that would be obvious,” replied a snide Loki. 

Thor was flustered for but a moment, until regaining control over his tongue. “Y- yes I see that, but why are you taking off your clothes?” 

“Because I need to be cold.” Loki replied simply, slowly growing fond of the air of mystery he was giving and the confused Thor who reciprocated. 

“I’m lost.” 

He smiled impishly, “You’ll understand in a moment- just hold on,” Loki said as he took off the last of his garments, leaving only his underwear as he started to enter the small river. The water was unbelievably cold and as Loki started to struggle against the current towards the middle of the river, his skin started burning under the water’s force and started to numb at the same time. Slowly, though, maybe a lifetime later or only a moment or two- he found himself situated in the very middle of the water- floating, having lost the river’s bottom two or three steps before- and taking one last look at a confounded Thor before taking a deep breath and plunging beneath the water. He waited a second and then five and then ten before he opened one eye beneath the surface and then the next so he could stare at the spectacle that was his skin. 

Under the sun, Loki was the very definition of pallor- his skin was porcelain smooth and pale, seemingly completely untarnished by the world- left unaffected by sun, scarring accidents, or anything; but beneath the near- freezing waters of the river, he was a cerulean colour everywhere, with darker tendrils swirling his body in elaborate patterns and designs. He had seen these markings before, but never had he so admired them… and yet been so scared of them at the same time. For up above, at the surface, there was a boy the likes of which he had never known- who accepted him as he was and made him laugh more than anyone he had ever known… and he was about to surface and ruin it all… 

Loki looked up above his head and saw the white burning sun. ‘I really do ruin everything, don’t I?’ he thought to himself. And had it been possible to cry under water, Loki was sure he shed tears down there when there was movement at the water’s edge. Thor still had his trousers and his shirt on, but he had become concerned for Loki’s well- being, so he started making his way towards him- determined to save his friend from drowning, if that was what, in fact, was happening. ‘Maybe he won’t leave after all,” Loki mused, and he closed his eyes and met the floor of the water in a crouched position, ready to kick off into the sun, ‘Only one way to find out...’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to the handful of people that actually care about this fic: first, i love you guys, you make everything worth it, and i love each and everyone of you... unfortunately because i love you all so much, i am only posting half of the third chapter guys- which i'm really, extremely, sorry about but here's my reasoning- well, for starters, there are two ways this thing can go, and i want you to have the best possible reading experience that i can offer, so, yeah. and pretty soon, my guilt about only posting half is going to drive me insane so i'll put more work into finishing it quickly. you know? im sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fluff... mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added on a bit to the last chapter, guys- I'm sorry! I figured what I had written was better as an addendum than a separate chapter so to those who haven't yet, I suggest you reread the last chapter (despite how painful that's going to be) or else nothing will make sense.  
> With that in mind, read on and enjoy!

“Fandral! Fandral!” Sif called as she ran through the busy street, trying to catch the attention of the small possy.  
As she had predicted, Volstagg had convinced them to go into a sweets shoppe, and was now eating handful after handful of odd candies that Sif had never seen before. Fandral was walking on the large boy’s side, begging for a piece with every spare breath he had when he wasn’t talking about some pretty girls he had seen in the store and how he had longed to buy them something so that they could give him a kiss in gratitude. Why they would ever want to kiss Fandral was completely lost on Sif- even if they didn’t have the money to buy candy on their own, they couldn’t have been all that grateful- no one was that polite.  
The young blonde started waving her hands from the other side of the road once she was close enough for her tiny voice to carry and was able to succeed in getting the attention of Hogun. His dark eyes searched for the source of the voice for but a moment before finding Sif and, when their eyes met, Sif could have sworn she witnessed the tiniest of smiles reach his face.  
Sif shuddered at the sight- if she were honest with herself, the older boy who hardly ever said anything creeped her out a bit; boys that age were supposed to be rowdy and obnoxious and laugh all the time- but Hogun was always so serious, it made her uncomfortable. While he turned to his friends and announced his discovery of the girl, Sif stepped off the sidewalk carefully and looked both ways before crossing the street- there had already almost been one accident, no use in having another, thought she, as she approached the kids.  
“Hey there, Sif!” smiled Volstagg from behind another fistful of candy. “Do you want some candy?” he offered, extending the hand holding the bag. The clear piece of plastic held so many colours it could have held fourteen rainbows in there and Sif was almost tempted to take some, when Fandral shook her out of her stupor.  
“What are you doing here, Sif? Where’s Thor?” Fandral spat from behind crossed arms and a scowl.  
“That’s what I came here to tell you,” she said.  
“Well then, go on,” continued Fandral, feigning boredness as he pretended to yawn and lazily twisted his wrist in a fashion to get her to keep talking.  
“Did something happen to Thor?” asked Volstagg with wide eyes, the candy in his hand no longer as urgent a priority as the safety of his friend, so he just handed it to Hogun, who held the candy bag like it was the most unfavourable token one could ever have asked him to hold, but he’d do it anyway for his precocious friend; Volstagg was like that, Sif noted. He was a good boy who loved younger kids almost as much as he loved his food and was always nice to them- no matter what. He always listened to what they had to say, even when the grown- ups wouldn’t. Hogun, too, was concerned, but Sif couldn’t bring herself to stare at him for too long- lest she start shivering incessantly at the scary boy.  
Fandral, on the other hand, was dramatic and selfish and conceited and rude. He expressed mild intrigue at the mention of Thor, but was too busy sulking behind Volstagg and Hogun at having lost the interest of his audience in his small sweeties in the sweets shoppe anecdote.  
“I don’t know,” she answered.  
“What do you mean you don’t know?” demanded Fandral, pushing his friends aside so he could get face to face with Sif.  
“I don’t know!” She shouted in his face, hands flailing about in exasperation, “I came as fast as I could when Thor decided to go with him-” she raked her hands through her hair as Volstagg’s familiar, sugar dusted hands reached out and pried Fandral and Sif out of each other’s personal spaces.  
The red- haired boy turned to her and asked, “Who did Thor leave with? Was there another person with you guys?” He looked especially scared right now, and that scared Sif … “Come on Sif, this is serious,” he begged as he took his arms and grabbed her shoulders- not so tight that it hurt, but instead it was gentle and reassuring-, “Was there another person there? And if so, where did he take Thor?” he asked, steadily, this time.  
Sif was still pretty frightened. The dark haired boy in the small forest was a terrifying apparition she never wanted to see again, but for Thor’s sake, she was willing to look the devil in the eye if she had to. “There was a boy with us."

 

“Loki! L-” Thor stopped. He had been shouting in relief when he saw the familiar black tresses- now completely slicked onto the head from which they sprang- break the surface, but now he hesitated. Where he had just previously seen a pale boy with eyes as green as life itself jump into the water, now stood a blue coloured male with Hellish eyes of red. His skin was the shade of uniform trousers where it wasn’t raised, and darkened to the colour of the deep sea in odd patterns that twisted about the contours of the face, chest, arms, and probably more, in serpentine- like curves and straightened angles that seemed to intertwine beautifully with the free flowing marks. ‘What kind of boy is he, that he can change from all blacks and greens to red and blues simply by touching the water?’ Thor asked himself as he continued to stare, Loki obviously starting to become a little uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze. ‘My two favourite colours,’ thought he, as he admired the sharp contrasts of azure skin and eyes as red as rubies and blood… at some point, he had unknowingly gotten on his hands and knees on the muddy bank, and extended his hand towards the creature, who looked at it confusingly as it loomed ever closer- not making an effort to receive it. Thor shook his head to wake himself from his daze and hastily began to take off his jacket and offer it to his friend with a small, crooked, charming grin saying, “You’d been in there a long time, mate. I was about to jump in and rescue you.”  
Loki scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion as he wondered why Thor wasn’t yelling or running or even acknowledging the fact that he’d turned a different colour like a chameleon right in front of his face, but was, instead, making light of the matter, and offering to get him out and dry.  
Thor chuckled a little in his throat and insistently moved his hand a little closer towards the boy. “Is it really that cold in there?” Loki scrunched his face even more in confusion and opened his mouth so he could ask how Thor seemed to know the conditions under which his tattoos could be seen, when he was interrupted by one of the dumbest things he’d ever heard. “Must be freezing if you came out like a cartoon.”  
“A- a cartoon?” Loki asked incredulously.  
“Yeah, like Donald Duck or Mickey Mouse or Finn and Jake and-”  
“Yes I know what a cartoon is but what do you mean ‘like a cartoon’?”  
“I mean,” Thor answered mildly sardonically, “‘like a cartoon’- you know, like when the character is about to go swimming or take a bath and the water is so cold he turns blue.” Thor smiled brightly at his own cleverness and stopped insisting on the jacket for just enough time for Loki to have a complete existential crisis.  
‘What is wrong with this boy? ‘Like a cartoon,’- is he mad, or just plain stupid? He must be, or else he would not be acting this way. People are supposed to scream and point and shout when they’re faced with a monster- maybe! Maybe it’s a trap, and he only wants to look supportive until he can get me out of the water so he can push me back in and run away with my clothes… or do something equally as horrid.” Loki was utterly flabbergasted at the sheer audacity of the boy for the second time that day, when he noticed the hand retracting and the small shrug of the shoulders Thor gave as he said, “My arm got tired, mate- you took too long,” ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God, he’s going to run with my clothes now isn’t he?’ ...“So the way I figure it is, if I can’t get you out… then I’ll just have to jump right in!” He laughed as he dropped the red jacket on the floor and simply leapt into the river by Loki’s side- clothes and all.  
He emerged laughing still and completely unfazed by the temperature of the river. He wiped his face with one hand and, with a smirk, splashed Loki, who had the misfortune to have his mouth open at that moment, right in the face with a great sweep of his arm. He laughed and laughed as Loki started to furiously spit out the disgusting water from his mouth and curse Thor for doing that when he had his mouth open. “Oh come on! Have a little fun, Loki!” Thor insisted as he made another, less powerful, wave with his arm and aimed it at the boy- who closed his mouth and eyes this time- until he was sure the splash had had it’s way with him.  
He opened his eyes and then returned the favour- splitting the water current to create projectiles of water droplets to send at his enemy, suddenly furious at being so confused, he shouted, “What is wrong with you?” and the blond stopped laughing and gave him a serious look of hurt.  
“How- how do you mean? I just thought you could use a little fun.”  
“I’m not talking about that, I’m talking about this!” he gestured at himself. “What could possibly be so wrong with you that you can’t even tell when someone’s a freak! When someone’s not worth being friends with!” he lowered his voice and rested his arms a bit, suddenly broken, “When someone’s a monster...”  
Thor was completely taken aback. The blue boy was starting to turn back to a more natural shade of flesh on the tips of his nose and ears and on his lips, but not even he seemed to fully realize and appreciate that fact as he looked down at the water and saw his reflection. At first he looked angry, then sad, and then forlorn as he decided it was best not to look at all and he closed his eyes- looking so completely shattered that Thor didn’t even really know what to say.  
But, by some miracle or other, Thor found the words to make Loki listen.  
“You’re not a monster.” He said reassuringly, as he tried to crane his neck to see Loki’s face.  
“You don’t know that! You only just barely met me! Today, in fact!” Loki scoffed at him. But Thor paid no heed and he continued.  
“But that’s where you’re wrong, Loki. I do know.” Loki looked at him incredulously and slightly annoyed.  
“How?” he asked just above a whisper.  
“I’m a hero! I know all kinds of monsters- and you’re not one of them.” Thor touched a cerulean shoulder and smiled as reassuringly as he possibly could. Loki could feel tears prickling behind his eyes, because he was a monster- he was the prince of monsters. He hated himself, he hated his father, he hated his life, and he hated his mother- but most of all, he hated this golden boy who came into his life that very afternoon and taught him the meaning of friendship, of love, of acceptance- this brutish older kid who trusted so easily and made him laugh like no one else had ever even tried to do so before- this one stranger who, in the span of a single afternoon, touched Loki so deeply. “You’re right, though. I don’t know all that much about you. We did only just meet...” Disappointment started to swell in Loki’s chest and began to suffocate him, but Thor, the hero, helped him to breathe. “But that’s why I want to spend more time with you, Loki. That is why I want to be your friend. I may not know where you came from or who your parents are or your pet’s name or even your last name! But what I do know is this; I like you too much to let you believe you aren’t worth befriending. You are too funny, too talented, and too clever to be a monster, Loki, and, hell, I still want to learn more! Friendship isn’t skin deep, Loki. So, what do you say? Think you can give me a chance?” Thor looked at him with such sincerity that Loki sucked in a breath and did not let it out for a long time- he wanted to remember this moment forever. He wanted to immortalize this first moment in which he did not feel sad, in which he was no one’s son, he was just Loki… Thor’s new friend…He had a sudden desire to hug the older boy, to just hold him and not let him go because Thor- with all of his simpleton ways and boyish charms made him feel like a kid again, when this whole time he had felt ancient. Thor was just too good to let go without a fight. But hugging alone didn’t seem to quench this feeling that Loki had inside of him and he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to say yes, but even that fell short of what he wanted to say. So he smiled at his friend- a small one, sure- and turned his head away, looking at the water, staring at his reflection and for the first time did not search for colours… what he was searching for was Thor’s concerned face. He knew it’d be there eventually, Thor was just one of those people. ‘The fool,’ thought Loki, as he, with a mischievous glint in his eye and a wild smile plastered on, swept with a huge arc of his hand against the surface of the water and splashed Thor in the face.  
He laughed as Thor staggered back in shock, he laughed as Thor started spitting out the water, and he even laughed while Thor was retaliating- not even really caring that the water was getting in his mouth from laughing so much- it was war!  
And from there the two boys had a water fight the like of which the universe had never seen before, nor will it ever again. They splashed, they laughed, they tackled and smeared mud into each other’s hair, they threw balls made from the mud found at the bank at one another, and, most importantly, they were happy.

When it was all finally over, and the Great Water War had finished, the two tired participants crawled out from the river’s clutches and hoisted themselves upon the bank, where they basked in the sunlight and played with grass and the puny little flowers that littered the ground. They didn’t speak for a long while- the silence was just too comfortable to break and their voices too spent to even try, but Thor being Thor, couldn’t resist shattering the silence.  
“Does it still hurt?”  
“What?”  
“The tattoos and stuff. Do they still hurt?” Thor’s expression was filled with concern, and, truth be told, Loki was in a lot of pain, but he didn’t want Thor to know that- or else he might not want to play with him again. So he didn’t answer.  
“Loki?”  
“I’m not going to answer that question.”  
“And why not?”  
“Because if I say ‘yes’, then you’re never going to want to play with me again because you’d be too afraid to hurt me. And if I say ‘no’, then you’re going to want to do it again and again and again until we both collapse.”  
“That’s not true!” Loki turned to him with the most sour look of unbelief he could muster, and Thor’s feigned innocent looks cracked under the ridiculousness of it all. He chuckled out an, “Okay, maybe.”  
Loki tucked his hands behind his head and smugly added, “Besides, I like the quiet.”  
“Figured you would.” Thor seemed to mumble.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Loki started to take offense.  
“Nothing bad! Just, I thought you would like this-” he gestured to the peacefulness of it all, “a lot more than you would like a battlefield or something. It suits you.”  
Loki hummed in his throat and then they slipped into a comfortable, lazy silence for a moment more.  
"Loki?"  
"I told you, I'm not answering that question, Thor."  
"Well then answer this one; are we friends now?" Thor asked desperately, his eyes growing large and worried at the possibility of Loki saying no and leaving him after such a great afternoon.  
"Well of course we are, you fool! I can't believe you would even think otherwise." Loki chuckled and even tossed a small pebble at Thor for his impudence.  
The pebble hit Thor right on his cheek, but he did not even flinch when it hit him, nor did he seek retribution- he was too focussed on the topic at hand to be deterred by a small rock´s impact. "W- would you like to meet my other friends, then?" He asked nervously.  
Loki completely froze at the suggestion- no one had ever wanted to introduce him to their clique before, he had never had a friend to introduce him to anyone in the first place either though, so his hesitancy was understandable, but Thor immediately started retracting his offer the moment Loki showed even a hint of discomfort at the idea. "You- you don't have to meet them if you don't want to-"  
"No! No, no, no- I want to, I really do! It's just-” Loki worried his bottom lip by biting it before confessing, “I’ve never really had one friend- much less more! I mean, do you even think they'd like me?"  
Thor brightened up at the fact that Loki did want to meet his friends- they were like his family after all- and he breathed heavily through his nose at Loki’s conundrum, "Well of course they will, Loki! I mean I did pretty quickly, why wouldn't they?" Loki could list at least a dozen reasons why just at the top of his head, but the way Thor was looking at him right now was enough to make him dismiss the list and agree to this acquaintance anyway.  
He sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, closed his eyes, and nodded his head, "Then let's go."  
Thor beamed with excitement and got up off the floor in a heartbeat- wiping the mud from his hands on his still- wet clothing and then offering one paw to his still nearly- bare friend who was still on the ground.  
Loki took his hand and lifted himself from the floor and immediately started looking for his previously discarded clothing- Thor, however, seemed to forget the importance of his friend’s modesty in it’s entirety and, in his excitement, had already started heading toward the path that lead them there in the first place.  
Loki picked his pants off the ground, patted some dirt off, and then followed the other boy with his eyes- waiting for him to realize that there was no second pair of feet matching his stride- until he was out of eyesight. It was only then that he called out to Thor, with a more than slightly condescending tone, "Aren't you missing something?”  
It took Thor a moment to return to the clearing with an embarrassed look on his face- "I’m sorry, Loki- guess I just got a bit carried away...” He snickered awkwardly, as he tried to cover up his humiliation. Loki just rolled his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> im really sorry if you enjoyed this because im a shitty writer and ill probably never update this thing again until like two years from now and well thank goodness im a bad writer because now this guarantees I wont disappoint anyone if I never update because no one liked what I wrote in the first place woo!
> 
> oh! by the way the song sung at the end is called "Hero" by Heather Dale- lovely song and beautiful music, more people should listen to her, I mean seriously. if youre reading this, then please go check up some of her stuff I mean damn this woman has got it going on with her sound


End file.
